Wide Open
by Susan Weber
I dream more now, and remember the vivid scenes well. My fiction factory’s functioning
Sightings of my late husband in dream had been scarce of late, but there he was, twice in one night. Once he was getting our youngest, a toddler, out of the car as I looked down from my sequestered upstairs bedroom, wondering if I could safely welcome them. They let themselves in and came to my bedside, a sleepy boy in his father’s arms, a shimmering vision yet somehow real.
The second scene was longer. My Oragonian sister-in-law and I followed my husband up to an attic sanctuary that resembled an expansive garden. His artistic inventions stood along a winding path like fine, working, problem-solving sculptures, each one a masterpiece. He explained the inner workings of his creations to the laywomen, as was his way, without a hint of condescension. Later in the dream I showed him projects I’d been working on around the house since he’d moved on to the after life. We were on our knees checking out knobs I’d replaced underneath the gas range I haven’t seen since we first married. He tried out the hinged flaps I’d added to the picnic table on the front porch. He had kept that table, inherited from my folks, in working order through the years. In the dream he inspected my improvements, impressed with my workmanship. And I was aglow with his praise.
Recently my sister said, “Who woulda thought that being told to stay in our houses would make us feel more connected with everyone in the world.”
I told her about the dream and said the isolation makes me feel more connected to the after and before world too.
After and before is my understanding of where we go and come from when we’re not living here on earth. Those lives border the breathing, beating life we’re focused on anew these days. What is, like a gorgeous flame, snuffed out at death was also snuffed on when we were first born into earthly existence. Both point to an enduring reality, life on earth a piece of the eternal. I think dreams pierce the borderline between the two.
Nobody clamors for a plague. Suffering and loss may connect us with everyone in the world and beyond. Given a choice between this thing and all the positives we’re noticing, including my recent sightings? I’d still choose the pre-pandemic world I think.
But here we are having our lives ripped open, wide open, repercussions echoing through our dreams and into an unknown future.
This is where art comes in. Inhabiting the vast unknown is the functional normal of the artist. Letting what ifs float and drift and tumble without reining them in to tamer truths requires confidence and stamina. Outside the practice of art we’ve learned to nail down security with consumption of things and threadbare beliefs in what it means to be content. That’s all upended now. And it feels like this is only the beginning.
I say to you what I say to myself. Stay tuned. Be attuned to you amidst the tumult. As we build our stamina to dream and imagine, here’s my song Wide Open. It has taken on new meaning in a sea change we didn’t see coming, and possibly, couldn’t live without.
Words & Music, lead vocals and guitar, and video by Susan Weber. Headphones kindly recommended.
THIS TOO photo by Betty Wills CC BY-SA 4.0